


After Another Hard-Earned Day

by orphan_account



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Xander waved to Buffy from the bar.  'Hello fellow proletarian!  Grab a stool.  They're all free'"</p><p>On top of everything else, Buffy's having a rough time minimum-waging it.  Set sometime during her tenure at the Doublemeat Palace.</p><p>The title comes from X's song 'The Have Nots,' which is all about working-class bars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Another Hard-Earned Day

Whenever Buffy left the Doublemeat Palace, it felt like a year had gone by. A slayer should not be this drained by working food-service. Her feet were killing her. All the running she did on patrol didn't prepare her for eight hours standing in place. Her head was killing her. Beeps and sizzles and screaming children. All day. And her stomach was killing her. It wasn't so bad at first, but the human digestive tract was clearly not meant to withstand the sustained onslaught of grease that was a daily free doublemeat medley.

Xander had asked if she wanted to get a drink, quote, "anywhere but the Bronze."  She didn't, really.  She wasn't really the get-a-drink type.  But she said yes.  She pushed open the door of the bar to find that it had earned its sad-sack reputation.  There were two older men in plaid nursing beers at a table, and there was Xander, still in his work clothes.  The jukebox was playing old country music, which she supposed fit.

Xander waved to Buffy from the bar.  "Hello fellow proletarian!  Grab a stool.  They're all free."

"So." said Buffy.  "This is all legal now.  How very responsible of us."

"So, Buff, can we--"

"Not talk about any of what's been happening?"

"Actually, yeah, that's where I was going with that."

"Deal.  Whatcha drinkin'?"

"As befits a manly type like myself, I'm having a shot of Jameson followed by an inexpensive domestic beer.  You?  By the way, I'm buying.  Construction beats fast food."

Buffy honestly didn't want to throw any alcohol at her stomach.  The doublemeat indigestion had settled in and would be staying the night.  "Can I be incredibly lame and just get a ginger ale?"

"It saves me money, so yes.  How was work?"

"I am grease.  Grease is me."

"Any exciting customers?"

"One guy called me a liar when I told him we've never served hot dogs.  You?"

"Tools were used, heavies were lifted, jokes were told that I will not repeat."

This was nice, in its sheer ordinariness.  Two working people, talking about work.

Xander downed his shot and slammed the glass on the bar entirely too hard.  "You know," said Buffy, "if I did that, they'd be billing me for a new bar."

"You know, given our luck, we may end up seeing this bar break anyway by the end of the night."

"No.  This is a no-monster night.  Not even little monsters."

"Amen."

They decided to play darts.  Not that Buffy had ever played darts, but that seemed like a thing people would do.  Xander told her to stand several feet behind him.  She still well outscored him.

"You know, there really need to be things to do in bars that don't involve me being not a slayer," said Xander.

"You can always drink more."

"And then maybe I'll get maudlin over a Bruce Springsteen song.  It will be the malest I have ever been."

"Oh, no.  If anyone's getting maudlin, it's me."  Buffy thought she was joking, but everything she came here to avoid tore into her as soon as she said it.  She wanted Giles or she wanted Mom and the world just didn't stop being the world. 

Xander must have seen it in her face.  He reached out his arms.  She accepted the hug.

"Look," he said, "I don't know about slayer-ing and I barely know about most things.  But I've done what you're doing, with the dead-end job thing.  It sucks.  It sucks and you don't know how it's going to stop sucking.  I get that.  I know there's more to your life and all, but this is one problem I get."

"So how do I fix it?"

"I don't know.  I just threw things at the wall and something stuck.  All that kept me going some days was just how much I hated my family and how much I didn't want to be under their roof."

"That's...honest, at least?"

"No, see, Buffy, I am the biggest screw-up I know and I managed to do this.  You...you're a badass.  That's what we call a transferable skill.  You're going to find a way to turn your problem into a fight and you are going to win that fight because that is the thing you do.  I mean that."

"Thanks."  Buffy's voice was flat.

"You don't have to believe it right away."

"Jeez, who made you wise?"

"I have depths.  All of three inches deep, sometimes!"

Buffy half-smiled.

"So," said Xander, "I bet you're pretty sick of eating doublemeat food-like product."

"Ugh.  Literally.  My body is making it very very clear that I am not, in fact, putting food in it."

"Well, I make a solidly mediocre sandwich, and it would not take too much time to make two.  Perhaps drop one off at Casa del Summers on my way to work?"

Now Buffy did a full smile.

Xander shrugged.  "See, I'm okay sometimes."

This was one of the good nights, it seemed.  Maybe they were few and far between.  But this was one of them.


End file.
